


Scandal

by agent_florida



Series: cadmiumahoy series [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up Carolina in the middle of the night probably wasn’t the best idea York ever had, but he didn’t expect to get in this much trouble for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scandal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Master of the Impossible](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15301) by cadmiumahoy. 



“York, it’s 3:30 in the morning. What do you want?”  
  
He held out the garment to NC. “You any good at getting stains out of clothing?”  
  
She stared at him out of sleep-blurred eyes. “Huh what?” Then she focused on the wad of pink fabric under her nose. “What kind of… oh my God.”  
  
She had noticed. Damn. He had been hoping to catch her off her guard so she would practically be sleepwalking as she helped with his problem. “What?” he asked, trying to pull an innocent act.  
  
“This is my sister’s,” she realized as she grabbed it out of York’s hand. “It’s her Halloween costume. Why the hell do you have it?” Then she looked at the stain more closely. “More to the point, what the hell is this?” she asked, pointing at it.  
  
“That’s, um, er.” Lie, York, lie. “I was feeling experimental?”  
  
“Gross, gross, gross,” NC started shrieking as she stared at the offending item in her hand. “You know what I have to do with this now? I have to explain to my sister why she can’t have her three-hundred-dollar slutty Aurora dress for Halloween this year. And after that, I have to burn this. And knowing you, it’s going to smell like burnt cum the entire time!” After her outburst, she flounced away from the doorway, but before she could get more than a few steps away, she turned back around and got in York’s face again. “And pubes!” she yelled before slamming the door in his face.  
  
York figured he could reason with her, but when he heard the lock on her door engage, he realized it was hopeless. He’d thought she’d had the good sense to stop locking her door on him once he had told her what his specialization was. It was adorable how she thought a lock could keep him out of her room. Sighing, York took a pin from his hair, bent it open, and used an end to jimmy the tumblers in her lock. The whole process took under fifteen seconds, and in no time he was in her room, walking to the side of her bed.  
  
She was laying on it as if trying to sleep, but her eyes were open, reflecting the light seeping in through her curtains as she stared at the puddle of organza and satin on the floor. “Can’t sleep,” she muttered. “Dress will eat me.”  
  
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” No response. “I know I should have asked, but it wasn’t my fault.”  
  
Her eyes locked onto him, and her gaze would have been less painful if it had been made of lasers. “Right. So who’s to blame this time? Ninja?”  
  
“No, I meant it wasn’t me wearing the dress. It was Wash.”  
  
NC’s eyes widened for half a second. Then, she burst into barely-controlled shrieks of laughter. “Wash! In that dress! Oh, God, now I’m never going to be able to sleep. Ever again!”  
  
“Shh, not so loud.” He crept closer to her bedside, clamping a hand over her giggling mouth gently. “I don’t want everyone to know about it. Jesus.”  
  
NC muttered something against his palm; the feel of her lips against his skin was a strangely arousing sensation. He let go so she could speak. “If you didn’t want everyone to know, you probably shouldn’t have come to me for help.”  
  
York groaned. “All right, I get it. What’s it gonna take to pay you off?”  
  
The gleam in NC’s eyes was almost predatory. “Oh, I know what I want.”  
  
“God damn it.” If Wash found out about this – about any of this – he was  _so_  sunk, he thought as NC’s hand slipped into his hair and her lips met his. “Usual rules?” he mumbled against her mouth.  
  
“Whoever said I played by the rules?” she snarked back. Five minutes later, York was on his back on her bed, completely naked. NC was still in her bra and suspiciously lacy panties, forcing York’s arms over his head as she kissed his neck.  
  
When York heard a ‘click’ from above his head, he realized that her sudden show of initiative had been too good to be true. “Uh, NC?”  
  
“Hm?” She sat up straight, an angelic grin on her face.  
  
“I’m handcuffed to your headboard.”  
  
“I know.” And with that, she climbed off of him and began to search for something in her bedside drawers.  
  
A few seconds later, NC was brandishing a camera, holding it up to her face and steadying it. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell is that?”  
  
The camera clicked, a bright flash went off, and through the stars now dancing in his eyes, he could see a bit of film coming from a slot in the front. “It’s a Polaroid,” NC said in her best patronizing tone.  
  
“I thought they stopped making those centuries ago.” He tried to force the handcuffs to give, but they wouldn’t budge.  
  
“My mom’s a camera nut. Never thought it would come in this handy before.” She shrugged as she flapped the exposure around, and a few seconds later, she checked the image. “Damn, that’s nice.”  
  
“What’s nice?” He watched, helpless, as NC pulled her sleep pants and tank top back on. “What are you doing with that?”  
  
“’Night, sweetie,” she said venomously, kissing York’s forehead before leaving him as he was, naked and handcuffed to her bed.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning, Wash woke up to an empty spot in his bed. When he searched the room, he found no evidence of either York or that stupid frilly dress he had worn. But when he opened his door to leave for his morning run, he saw a photograph was taped, face-down, over his eye slot. Someone had written on the back:  
  
 _Come and get him. XOXO_  
  
The handwriting was NC’s. Wash untaped the photograph and turned it around, and holy shit. There was York, in such a scandalous position that he, Agent Washington, was blushing at the possibilities. In the white space below the photograph, NC had written  _Your move._  
  
He was tempted, for a moment, to just take the photograph back inside his room and rub one out as he stared at it, but compassion got the better of him. York was naked and vulnerable, and he needed his help. Wash smirked as he tucked the photograph into the pocket of his sweatpants and made his way to NC’s room. It was going to be a good day.


End file.
